Fresh Blood
by SSG Michael B Jackson
Summary: A soldier's family is brutally murdered by a vampire during a vacation in England, and Hellsing becomes involved. What will he do? What will they do?
1. Shattered Dreams

_**Fresh Blood**_

_**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**_

Disclaimer: _I don't own Hellsing or anything connected with it, though it sure as hell would be fun if I did. I'm writing this purely for my own twisted amusement, and will not make a dime in the process._

**_August 17th, 2002:_**

Flashing blue lights, police tape, and, incongruously, light armored vehicles were the sights that greeted SSG Brad Porter as he approached the motel he and his family were staying in. His pulse raced as he saw this, and the bags of take-out Chinese slipped from his grasp, unnoticed, as he took of running for the last hundred meters, dreading what he was terrified he'd find. Right up till that moment, it'd been a great vacation.

Brad Porter had finally managed to set all of his ducks in a row back at his duty station in Schweinfurt, Germany, allowing one of his junior NCO's to 'take the reigns' for a couple of weeks while he burned off some use/loose leave time, and he'd made the most of it, at least from his point of view. After spending the first week just relaxing around the house and catching up on some family time, he'd packed up the wife and three kids and headed for England, a trip they'd been planning for some time.

Oh, sure, it had been a hell of a drive, across Germany, Belgium, and a tiny sliver of France, all in the first day. Especially with the year-and-a-half-old screaming her little lungs out, and the older brother and sister bored after the first hundred miles. But it hadn't been that bad. Both Brad and his wife, Anja, loved to travel, and were used to doing it with kids. And both loved to see the countryside gradually change around them as they drove, taking in the new sights avidly.

The ferry ride from Calais to Dover had been especially exciting, as none of them had ever traveled that far over water, nor in a ship quite that large, and the children had a wonderful time. Once on the other side, of course, actually finding the tiny bed and breakfast they'd reserved a room in via Internet proved to be a bit of a chore, but the place itself had turned out to be well worth the irritation. And the next day had taken them to London.

That too had been a little frustrating. While Brad had experience driving in large cities, New York, Washington D.C., Atlanta, Frankfurt, and Nuernberg, to name just a few, London proved to be perhaps the most challenging he'd ever encountered. He wasn't sure if it was the volume of traffic, the awkwardness of driving in the left lane, or just the sheer lack of sense in the city's layout, but after an hour or so of wandering aimlessly, he'd been ready to scream. Luckily, he'd stumbled onto a reprieve eventually.

Taking one of the M's north, eventually they'd found a decent motel in a suburb nearly twenty miles from the city center, but still on the Underground line. Mercifully, they'd stopped for the day, planning to just relax for a while, and take the Tube in for some sight seeing in the morning. Naturally, food had been an issue, so Brad had volunteered to scout around for some take-out while Anja, three months pregnant and exhausted, was happy to stay behind with the kids. And that was where everything had gone horribly wrong.

As Brad came sprinting up to the cordon line, fully intending to barrel on through, he was stopped by a burly police officer in blue fatigues and tactical load bearing gear. "Here, now, sir! Afraid I can't let you through; got a situation going on in there and all."

"You don't understand!" Brad yelled fiercely. "My family's in there, for Christ's sake!"

The officer just shook his head regretfully, and said, "Sorry, but I still can't let you in. It's just not safe yet, sir."

"Son of a bitch!" Brad exclaimed. "Look, I'm a goddamn cop too! I'm a friggin' M.P. with the American Army! I understand where you're coming from, but you've gotta at least tell me what the hell's going on! I've got a pregnant wife and three kids in there!"

A pained look crossed the policeman's face, and finally, with a sigh he said, "We're not exactly sure, sir. We were just told to secure a perimeter around the motel complex while a group of 'specialists' dealt with whatever the problem inside is. It must be terrorists or some such, though, with the firepower these blokes are packing."

As if to emphasize this point, the sound of automatic fire suddenly broke out inside, coming from all too near the room Brad and his family had rented. Punctuating this were a number of screams, both masculine and feminine, and a few that sounded like the screams of children.

Brad surged forward at this, heedless now of the D-11 officer who made a grab for him as he broke through the police tape. Unwilling to be stopped, he sidestepped as the officer reached for him. Grabbing and taking control of both wrist and elbow, Brad pivoted sharply, using the officer's own momentum against him. Yanked off balance, the policeman was thrown forward, and landed hard on the pavement, his face taking up a large part of the impact. But Brad didn't take any time to survey the results; he just sprinted for the room that he fervently hoped still sheltered his wife and children.

As soon as he got close, though, Brad felt the bottom drop right out of his stomach as his worst fears were confirmed. The door of his family's room gaped open, smashed, and four men in olive drab fatigues and full-battle-rattle crouched warily in security positions on either side, SA-80's at a low ready.

Brad skidded to a halt as two of the soldiers drew down on him, and raised his hands to signal his non-hostile intentions. As chance would have it, he found himself to be in a perfect position to see through the doorway into the room beyond, at least until the soldiers got around to ordering him away and put him facedown on the ground, as he knew they would. But before this could happen, several things occurred very quickly inside the room.

Near the door, Brad could see two more of the soldiers, kneeling with weapons aimed inward. Between these two stood a young, blonde-haired woman in civilian clothes, wielding a moderate-sized pistol that was also aimed toward the back of the room. And there, near the sink by the bathroom door, stood a very pale, dark-haired man. In one hand, he brandished a MAC-10 SMG, aimed menacingly at the two soldiers and the woman, and in the other...

The pale man's other arm was wrapped around Brad's ten-year-old daughter Janin, pinning her arms to her sides and holding her up high in front of him, blocking his enemies' line of fire. Brad's blood both boiled and froze in his veins as he saw this, and he couldn't help but notice that Janin looked to be no more than semi-conscious, her shirt soaked with blood that appeared to have run down from her neck. Worse, however, was what he saw at the pale man's feet.

Heaped there were three bodies, one of them small and one of them heart-rendingly tiny. Fighting back a primal scream, Brad realized that these were what was left of his wife, son, and baby daughter, torn, broken, bloody, and obviously lifeless. As this sight burned itself onto his brain, he felt something snap inside him, and he knew that, no matter what orders the soldiers were about to give him, he wasn't going to comply. At that moment, he didn't care if they shot him as he stormed past. He only knew that, somehow, he was going to make it into that room and that he was going to rip the pale man's heart our with his bare hands when he did. But again, events inside pre-empted this.

With a muttered, "I'm sorry," the blonde woman suddenly squeezed off two rounds at the pale man. One struck him dead center in the forehead, the other center mass in the chest. Unfortunately, both rounds had to pass through Janin in order to hit their marks, punching through her skull and abdomen in the process and killing her instantly.

As Brad screamed, "NO!" and sprinted for the door, his homicidal intent suddenly transferred from the pale man to the apparently psychotic young woman, a distant part of him registered something decidedly odd. As the pale man screamed and crumpled toward the floor, Janin's body still cradled in his arms, his own body suddenly just came apart. It disintegrated into a shower of ash that cascaded over all three of the bodies at his feet, as well as Janin's. But in the state of mind he was in, Brad hardly noticed this, and it made no impression on him.

"You fucking crazy bitch!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as he charged toward the door, heedless of the four armed men who guarded it. "I'll fucking kill you!"

The blonde woman whirled around at this, weapon swinging to cover Brad as he ran toward her, and, again in some distant part of his awareness, he was faintly shocked to see that tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Regardless, Brad had no intention of stopping until he'd either gotten his hands around her throat and throttled the life from her, or his own body was too riddled with bullets to go on.

But for whatever reason, the woman suddenly yelled out to the soldiers, "Don't shoot! He's unarmed! Just grab him!"

And, as he came barreling through the doorway, they did just that. All four standing outside swung their weapons to their backs and hit Brad like a football defensive line, bearing him to the ground and trying desperately to hold him there. For his part, Brad fought like a wild animal, sheer rage and grief affecting him much like PCP. That being the case, even though he was by no means a large man, it eventually took the combined efforts of all six soldiers to subdue and eventually restrain him with flexi-cuffs. And even then, hog-tied, bound hand and foot, he continued to scream and rage.

"Goddamn you all!" He yelled. "What the fuck kind of bastards are you?! Who the fuck ever taught you sorry sons of bitches to take out a hostage to get to a perp?! A little girl for fuck's sake!" And then, lapsing into sobs, he finished brokenly, "MY little girl!"

Though he didn't notice at first, as his tirade continued, the woman, who'd been standing silently, listening, had begun to sob herself. Finally, in a voice raw with anguish, she screamed, "Bloody hell! Do you think I WANTED to do that?! Do you think if there was any other way, any other way at all, I wouldn't have at least tried?!" And then, shaking her head, wiping tears from her eyes, she finished in a low voice, "It was just too damn late. The bastard had already bitten her. A quick, painless death was the best I could do for her after that. And believe me, it's a lot better than the alternative."

An icy, almost unnatural calm descended upon Brad at her words. Somewhere inside himself, he continued to scream, and knew that he probably would never stop. But on the surface, shock, denial, and cold rage come together to create a deceptively placid façade. He realized then that it was quite likely his sanity had just snapped, but he registered it only as a cold fact. After all, what difference did it really make now? In his opinion, his sanity was the least of the things he'd just lost.

"Really," he finally said in a cold, dead voice. "Why don't you just explain that one to me, lady. And while you're at it, why don't you tell me what the FUCK was up with the son of a bitch who killed my family? I've seen some shit before, but never a bastard who crumbles to dust when you blow his goddamn brains out. An explanation is the very fucking least you owe me right now, - Hell, I don't even know your name."

"It's Seras," she said in a small, subdued voice. "Seras Victoria. And- I really can't give you any answers. I'm not authorized. But for what it's worth- I am sorry. So very sorry."

Brad's mouth compressed into a hard line, and he said, "Well, Seras, 'sorry' just isn't good enough. FUCK sorry! I want to know WHY! And by God, if you can't tell me, then you'd better point me toward somebody who can!"

She sighed, and said, "I'm afraid I can't do that either. I'm going to have to turn you over to the police, and let them sort this out. They'll have some questions anyway, and then-"

"Yeah, I damn well know what comes then." Brad interrupted. "Like I told that cop on the perimeter, I'm a goddamn cop too. A military cop. And yeah, I can see where the hell this is going. Probably a few charges for forcing my way onto this scene, assaulting that officer in the process, a bunch of stupid fucking questions about my family and what we were doing here, and, at the end of it all, some time in the local nut house until the Army can arrange a transfer to Landstuhl Hospital for me. But that's fine, lady. I can weather all that out. And then I'll be back." Then, looking at the insignia on each soldier's left breast, he said, "Hellsing, huh? Can't say I've ever heard that name before, so I guess you guys are spooks of some kind. Doesn't matter. And here's something to think about. My wife and kids were all German citizens. The German government's going to be really interested in finding out what happened to them, and why one of them was MURDERED by someone I assume is an agent of the British Crown. They were all U.S. military dependents too, and that's going to raise a stink, especially by the time I've called every damn congressman and representative I can find."

After a pause, Brad continued. "Now, I'm not so naïve as to think you can't shut me up one way or another, and I'm equally sure you can spin doctor yourselves out of anything the Germans or the military stirs up. But all I want are some damned answers. Wouldn't it be a hell of a lot easier in the long run to just let me talk to somebody in charge? After all this shit, aren't I at least entitled to that much?"

Seras seemed to mull this over for a long time, and then, with a heavy sigh said, "God. I suppose so. She'll probably kill me for this but-" And then, addressing the soldiers, she said, "Bring him on out. I'll talk to the commander about this, but I expect he'll see it my way, so you might as well load him up in one of the troop carriers. And blindfold him while you're at it. Can't have him peaking at anything he shouldn't see."

Reluctantly, the troops obeyed, and Brad soon found himself inside one of the armored vehicles he'd seen on the way in. As the blindfold was tied securely in place, he heard the back hatch bang shut, and someone sat down next to him.

"Well, you've got your wish," said a voice he recognized as belonging to Seras. "The commander wasn't especially happy about this, but he at least agreed to call and check."

"And?" Brad said flatly.

"And," Seras replied slowly, "Sir Integra has agreed to see you."

_Well, I think that's a wrap for chapter one. I'd appreciate any reviews, positive or negative, and would like to know if anyone thinks this is worth going on with. Also, YES this is an author avatar (Brad is just me with the serial numbers filed off), but I don't plan on letting it become a 'Gary Stu'. I just had this weird damn idea, and had to slap it onto digits to get it out of my head. Oh, and I do have a direction I'm planning on taking this. It'll just take a couple of chapters to get there. _


	2. New Determination

_**Fresh Blood**_

_**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**_

Disclaimer: _I don't own Hellsing or anything connected with it, though it sure as hell would be fun if I did. I'm writing this purely for my own twisted amusement, and will not make a dime in the process._

It didn't taken long to get wherever they were going, but for Brad it was an eternity. He remained silent for most of the drive, and, blindfolded, there was nothing for him to see but the horrible images indelibly seared onto his brain.

Over and over again he saw the pale man, standing over his murdered wife and children, his one remaining child held as a human shield in front of him. The bullets from the blonde woman, Seras' gun ripping through Janin's poor little body, killing both her and the pale man, who'd so inexplicably crumbled away to dust as he fell. And even the tears that slid down Seras' cheeks as she turned toward him afterwards.

And while he remained unaccountably numb regarding most of the images flashing through his tortured mind, unable as yet to encompass the full horror of what had just happened, that last part unfailingly stoked him to red-hot rage. How dare she! What fucking right did she, his daughter's murderer so far as he was concerned, have to cry? Who the hell had that right now but him, his family, and Anja's? Surely not some damn government spook who'd so casually exterminated a little girl in order to take out one man.

But as these thoughts played over and over in his mind, Brad slowly realized that something about the images nagged at him. There was something that just wasn't quite right... something about the woman Seras. And then finally it struck him. Her eyes. He hadn't noticed at the time, far weightier matters forcing themselves on his attention, but now that he was able to review it all he realized that Seras' eyes were an unearthly shade of red-orange he'd never seen before. He frowned. Contacts? That was the most logical explanation, but somehow that just didn't seem quite right either...

Finally, turning toward where he knew the woman sat, even if he couldn't see her through the blindfold, he said in a flat monotone, "So why did you do it? Shoot her, I mean. There had to be another way to get the bastard. But you took the path of least resistance. Why?"

He heard a sharp intake of breath from Seras as his words cut through her, and then, in a miserable voice she said, "I told you before. There WAS no other way. Even if he'd dropped your daughter-"

"Janin," Brad interjected in a low, cold tone. "Her name was Janin."

Seras felt a knife twist in her gut at the repressed agony in Brad's tone, but, swallowing once, she continued. "Even if he'd dropped Janin, it was too late. He'd already bitten her, taken her blood, and tainted her with his bloody filth. If I hadn't shot her then, I- I'd have done it afterwards. Believe me, it was the only humane thing left to do."

Brad felt his jaw tighten and his blood pressure spike, and he growled, "How the fuck do you figure? What the hell exactly was so horrible about her being bitten by that fucking psycho? Did he have some kind of disease? Something incurable? What?"

Seras sighed tiredly, and said, "I guess- you could call it something like that. He- I- I really can't tell you any more. That's for Sir Integra to do, if she decides she should. But I will tell you this; even if I hadn't... killed Janin, she would've died anyway. Nothing could've prevented it at that point, and... it would've been a far worse death than what I gave her." Brad heard her swallow once more, and he was almost certain she was crying again as she added in a low, urgent tone, "That's the truth of it. Please believe me when I say that."

Brad felt the rage building inside him once again as a part of him struggled NOT to accept her words. But then, all at once, he felt it all just drain away, as if someone had just suddenly opened a drain-cock and let it all out. He had no idea what was really going on here, but thirteen years as a military policeman had made him pretty damn good at telling when people were sincere and when they weren't. And, as near as he could tell, the young woman next to him was nearly as torn up inside by what had happened as he was. Maybe more so in a way; after all, while Janin had been his daughter, he'd only watched. Seras had made the decision to pull the trigger, apparently with a full moral appreciation of what she was doing and the intent to spare his daughter unnecessary suffering. As much as it killed him to just let go of his rage toward her, Brad had to admit to himself that, assuming that what she obviously believed was true, he had no basis for hating Seras. She'd just been doing what she thought was right.

With a long sigh that seemed somehow to take a part of Brad with it, diminishing him almost physically, he finally said, "I do. Or at least I believe that you believe it. And I- I guess I need to ask you to forgive me for- not being able to forgive you just yet. If what you're telling me is true, then I'm going to end up owing you an apology, I suppose." And then, I a strangled tone, he finished, "But there's just no way in hell that I can do that yet."

Once the APC had stopped, Brad was ushered out and a rather long walk ensued. After proceeding along a path or sidewalk, they entered a structure of some sort, and, after climbing a flight of stairs, finally halted. At this point, Brad's blindfold was finally removed, and he looked around curiously. The surroundings were, to put it lightly, a bit intimidating.

He found himself standing in front of a set of brass-handled, oaken double doors on the second floor of what appeared to be a mansion. A very expensively appointed mansion, no less, obviously the residence of someone either very rich, very influential, or both.

Normally, Brad would have been more than a little intimidated by such surroundings. But, in his present frame of mind, he simply couldn't care less. In fact, other than the white-hot anger he'd felt toward Seras, which had already apparently run it's course and gone, he hadn't felt much of anything since it'd all happened. Somewhere inside himself he realized that this numbness had to be a defense mechanism of some kind, sheltering him from emotions that otherwise would have been crippling. Eventually, he figured, everything would probably come crashing down on him, smashing him under it's ponderous bulk. But not right now.

Frowning, he looked over at Seras, who apparently had accompanied him. "So what now?" he asked quietly.

"Knock," she replied in a similar tone. "It's the proper thing to do."

He grunted in acknowledgement and then complied, knocking firmly but politely three times just as if he were reporting to his commanding officer back on base. There was silence for a moment, and then, from inside, a low, firm female voice said, "Enter."

Pushing the doors open in front of him, Brad did just that. Without thinking, he marched across the room, stopping exactly three paces in front of the large antique mahogany desk behind which the speaker was seated. Unfamiliar with the etiquette required for such a situation, he unconsciously fell back on his military experience, and very nearly saluted the coolly attractive nearly white-haired woman. He remained standing, silent, at the rigid position of attention while she examined him and he examined her in turn. Finally, realizing what he was doing, he broke the silence with, "Sir Integra, I presume?"

The woman cocked her head, light from the overhead fixtures glinting off the lenses of her wire rimmed spectacles, and said, "Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing. And you are?"

Eyes narrowing, Brad said a bit shakily, "Staff Sergeant Brad Porter, United States Army Military Police Corps, ma'am." And then, in a tone edged with a kind of hysterical humor, he added, "Though I'm hardly here in an official capacity."

The woman nodded slowly, and said, "So I've gathered, Sergeant Porter. Commander Williams was so kind as to phone ahead and let me know what had occurred out there. That being the case, let me just say up front that I'm terribly sorry for your loss." She paused for a moment, her gaze never wavering from his, and then said, "Now, as for the other matter... I've been told that you have some questions, Sergeant Porter. Questions that you refused to leave unanswered. Is that right?"

Brad nodded slowly, and then said, "You could say that, ma'am."

Eyes narrowing slightly, Sir Integra said, "Well, then, Sergeant, by all means ask. If I can answer, I will."

Brad looked down briefly, and then, locking eyes with Sir Integra, he said, "Alright. How about this then. What the hell happened at that motel tonight? What WAS that bastard who attacked my family? And why, WHY, in the name of GOD, did Miss Victoria over there HAVE to shoot my daughter? What did that bastard do to her that was so horrible that death was preferable? Can you tell me any of those things, Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing?"

Sir Integra sighed deeply, and then said, "I could give you the answers to those questions, Sergeant Porter. But there would be a few problems involved with that, I'm afraid."

Brad frowned, and, in a tightly controlled voice, said, "Problems, you say? Ma'am, I don't know how you define 'problems', but I seriously doubt that those 'problems' outweigh losing a wife, three children, and an unborn baby ALL IN ONE NIGHT! And while I very well understand the nature of classified material and 'need to know', I really think that in this situation I NEED TO KNOW! So if there's some damn waiver I need to sign, or if I simply need to 'disappear' after this little conversation is over, that's just fine with me. The truth is, for all intents and purposes, my life is over now anyway. My whole purpose for EXISTING just died in that damn motel room tonight, and the only thing keeping me going right now is my absolute refusal to give up until I know what the hell my family died for. So please take that into consideration if you will, MA'AM."

Sir Integra was silent for several moments, contemplating, and then, nodding slowly, she said, "I can appreciate your position in this, Sergeant Porter. You're not the only one who's ever lost someone you cared for. But... Hellsing is, by it's very nature, a secretive organization. We operate in the shadows, as it were, dealing with things that ordinary, everyday people refuse to even believe in. And that's the way it has to be. If the public had even an inkling of what was really out there, the social cost would be immeasurable. And so we keep what we know to ourselves. Within our organization and within certain other esoteric factions of the British Crown. In fact, Sergeant Porter, we go to great lengths to keep our knowledge from leaking outside the organization. If you understand what I mean."

Brad shook his head slowly, and said, "Oh, I think I understand, ma'am. And that being the case, I think I have a proposition for you." He paused for a moment, composing his racing thoughts, and then continued. "If you'll just tell me who or what that bastard was, and whether he was a loner or part of some damn terrorist cell or something, I can't think of anything I'd rather do with whatever's left of my life than help track down and annihilate any others like him who might be hiding under a damn rock somewhere out there. If you understand what I mean, ma'am."

Sir Integra's eyes widened just fractionally, and she said, "Are you offering your services to me, Sergeant Porter? In exchange for whatever I might be able to tell you?"

Brad nodded sharply once and said, "If what your organization does is hunt down bastards like that one, and if you'll have me, then yes ma'am. I am. There's nothing else left for me that's worth doing now."

Nodding again, Sir Integra said, "Based on what Commander Williams told me, I thought you might feel that way. So, naturally, I took the liberty of having someone make a few hasty... inquiries into your background, Sergeant Porter. Nothing near the level of detail I'd demand before finalizing anything, of course, but enough to give me a rough idea of who I was dealing with."

Face stony, Brad said flatly, "And?"

"And," Sir Integra said slowly, "It seems that you have a decent, though unremarkable, service record, Sergeant Porter. Thirteen years as a military policeman, duty assignments both inside the United States and in Europe as well as multiple deployments to, shall we say, some of the 'garden spots' of the world. Sparkling performance evaluations right up through 1999, and then, from 2000 on, well, shall we say, a bit more mediocre work overall."

Brad frowned, and said, "I can't deny that. 2000 was when Anja and I were married. Suddenly I had a wife and two kid, who I'm happy to say cam with the deal, and another one on the way. That was all I ever really wanted out of life, and my priorities changed. That didn't mean I was any less dedicated, but it did mean that I had to divide myself between the military and my family. I think you can guess which one got more of me." And then, mood suddenly turning dark, Brad said, "But I hardly think you have to worry about that now, ma'am. There's nothing left for me to divide myself between. The only purpose I can even imagine for myself at this point is taking care of trash like that bastard and making sure that no one else has to go through what I'm going through right now. I've never been part of any spec-ops unit or anything like that, but I damn sure know how to handle myself. I know what to do in combat, and I know what to do when there are friendlies caught up in the middle of things. I know how to take orders and how to lead troops. And, first and foremost, I know how to learn. So I guess what I'm saying is, either let me into the club and tell me what's going on, or just shoot me and dump the body somewhere. At this point, it's got to be one or the other."

Sir Integra gazed piercingly at Brad for a very long time, something that, if he'd given a damn anymore, most like would've made him very uncomfortable. As it was, it only made him impatient, and he did his best to hide that behind a military poker face. Finally, her lips quirking into just the slightest hint of a smile, Sir Integra said, "Well, Sergeant Porter, far be it for me to waste anything of potential value, be it bullets or manpower. As I said, however, before I make any final decisions, a far more thorough background check will be conducted. That should take no more than a day or so, and in the meantime, consider yourself a guest. And, so far as your family is concerned, I'll ensure that the proper... arrangements are made. Naturally, there are going to be quite a number of loose ends for you to tie up, but, contingent upon your eventual status here, whatever assistance you require will be provided. Any more questions, then, Sergeant Porter?"

Brad shook his head slowly, and said, "No, ma'am, I guess not for now."

"Good," she said quietly, and then, "In that case, I'll have Sergeant Victoria introduce you to Walter, my household manager. He'll be able to billet you, so to speak, and attend to any other domestic needs you might have."

Then, looking past Brad, Sir Integra speared Seras, who'd been quietly hovering near the door throughout the exchange, with her gaze. "Sergeant Victoria," she said just loud enough to be heard.

Coming forward quickly, Seras said a bit nervously, "Yes, Sir Integra?"

"Since it was your advice that brought Sergeant Porter here, until such time as I tell you otherwise, he's to be your responsibility. That means both ensuring that he's properly taken care of AND making sure that he doesn't get into any... trouble. Do you understand me, Seras?"

Frowning just slightly, Seras said, "I... think I do, ma'am."

"Good," Sir Integra said, the tiny hint of a smile playing about her lips again. "In that case, kindly show him out and get things started if you will."

Seras nodded and, with a quick, "Yes ma'am," turned to escort Brad from the room.

"And Sergeant Victoria?" Sir Integra said as they reached the door.

"Yes ma'am?" she said, pausing.

"You may, at your discretion, answer some of Sergeant Porter's questions. I leave it up to your judgment to decide which ones and how far into... depth to answer."

And with that, Brad and Seras left Sir Integra's study, both with the feeling that they'd started down an unlit path that led towards parts unknown.

_Well, kind of a weak ending for chapter 2, I guess, but what can I say? It's late and I'm tired, and, yet again, it's leading somewhere. It might be a little while longer before I get chapter 3 up, but if so it should be worth the wait. Once again, please review; I really need the feedback!_


	3. Interlude With Explanations

_**Fresh Blood**_

_**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**_

Disclaimer: _I don't own Hellsing or anything connected with it, though it sure as hell would be fun if I did. I'm writing this purely for my own twisted amusement, and will not make a dime in the process._

The next hour or so passed very quickly for Brad, occupied as it was with meaningless sundries. Seras introduced him to Walter, a rather polite, well-mannered older gentleman who, apparently, was Sir Integra's butler and much more. He seemed to be in charge of practically everything of a domestic nature around the house, and, Brad gathered, had other duties as well. Even in his current state, Brad found himself drawn to the older man almost immediately, though there was something about him that struck Brad oddly. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he was somehow sure that there was a bit more to Walter than met the eye.

After being assigned a guest room and given a hasty tour of the relevant facilities, Brad was left pretty much to his own devices. Seras had excused herself soon after turning him over to Walter, saying that she had a report to file regarding the evening's activities, though she said she'd check back in with Brad before he retired for the night. Not, Brad thought, that there was much chance of that happening any time soon.

Left alone in his borrowed room, he found himself staring at the pile of goods stacked neatly next to the immaculately made bed. Instructions had been sent, it seemed, to whoever was left at the crime scene, and all of Brad's and his family's luggage had been salvaged. In fact, according to Walter, they'd even recovered the family van, which apparently was parked somewhere on the estate grounds, waiting like Brad for a verdict from Sir Integra.

The longer he stared at the suitcases and gym bags, the portable crib and the child-sized backpacks, the more agitated he became. In his mind he saw himself going through it all, trying to figure out what would be kept, what would go to his in-laws, and what would simply be thrown away. He went over it and over it in his head, changing his mind each time. A part of him became almost frantic in the process, realizing that eventually he'd have to go through everything for real.

After an unknowable length of time, he'd finally had enough, and with a muttered, "Fuck it!" turned and stalked to the door. Yanking it open savagely, he was startled to find an equally surprised Seras standing on the other side, hand poised to knock.

"Oh!" She said, red eyes widening slightly, "Talk about timing."

Brad just looked at her impassively, and said, "Finished your report, I guess?"

Seras nodded and said, "Uh, yeah, and I-"

"Figured you'd check up and make sure I hadn't snapped while you were busy?"

Seras frowned, and said, "Well, no, it's not like that, really. It's just that I said I'd come back to see if you needed anything, and... here I am."

Brad frowned slightly, and said, "I see. Well, then, Sergeant Victoria, I guess you know what I need right now. Answers. And let's see if we can avoid getting side-tracked this time." Then, motioning toward a desk and chair at one side of the room, he said with just a trace of sarcasm, "Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. I think we might be here a while."

Anything but comfortable, Seras complied, saying, "Er, yes, of course." And then, pulling out the chair and sitting, she said, "So. What do you want to know?"

Brad shut the door, and, turning slowly, said, "You were up there when I talked to Sir Integra. You heard what I asked her."

"Well, yes," Seras agreed, "but- where would you like me to start?"

Hands clasped behind his back, Brad paced slowly back and forth in front of her, and said, "At the beginning, I guess. Who or what the hell WAS the son of a fucking bitch who killed my family? That's the first item on the agenda."

Seras sighed, and said, "That's a bit complicated, I'm afraid."

Brad frowned, and said, "I'm a fairly bright guy. Enlighten me."

Frowning slightly herself, Seras said, "Well, that's not really the problem, you see. The problem is, I doubt you'll believe me. Nothing we deal with here at Hellsing is exactly normal, Sergeant Porter."

Brad shook his head, and said, "Yeah, I kind of gathered that. And you might as well call me Brad. I'm not really in a very formal mood just now."

Seras nodded slowly, and said, "Alright, then, Brad. And since we're at it, you can call me Seras. I've never really been much of one for formality either."

Brad sighed loudly, and then said, "Ok, Seras. So now how about explaining this guy to me. What was so damn incredible about him that I wouldn't believe it?"

Seras was silent for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase her answer, and then finally she just spat it out. "He wasn't human, Brad."

Cocking his head slightly, Brad said, "Not human? Now what hell exactly does that mean? I saw what happened to him after you shot him, and I've sure as hell never heard of anything like that. But if he wasn't human, what the hell was he?"

"That's the complicated bit, I'm afraid," Seras said slowly. "He was a vampire. Or at least a sort of vampire."

Brad stopped pacing abruptly, and turning to Seras with a quizzical expression said, "Say what? Vampire?" And then, anger creeping into his tone, he said, "Look, lady, if you can't tell me what the hell happened tonight, just let me know that. Don't insult my intelligence with some cock and bull story about vampires and spooky shit. Hell, at least come up with something half-ass plausible if you're gonna bullshit me."

"Bullshit you?" Seras said hotly, angry herself now. "Now exactly why, I ask you, would I come up with anything as far out as vampires if I were trying to 'bullshit you'? Do I come off to you as being that stupid?"

Brad frowned, momentarily non-plussed, and then said, "No, you don't. Which is why I'm wondering just what the hell your angle is on this. Vampires?"

She nodded, and said, "Vampires. And that's just what that bastard was. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof, at least."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Brad said, confused. "First you say that this guy was a vampire, and now you're saying he wasn't? You're losing me, Seras."

Exhaling loudly in frustration, Seras said, "Didn't I tell you this was complicated?"

Brad nodded slowly, and said, "Yeah, I guess you did at that. So what did you mean by 'a reasonable facsimile thereof'?"

"Well," Seras said, "You see, there are these chips. Microchips, that is. We call them FREAK chips, though I'm not exactly sure where the name comes from. I think it's an acronym, but I don't know what it stands for."

"Ok," Brad said skeptically. "Go on."

"When you implant one of these chips in a human body, it, well, somehow- Christ, I'm making a mess of this!" She said in exasperation. "Sir Integra or one of the bloody eggheads should be telling you all this, not me."

"No," Brad said in an odd tone, "You're doing OK. And let me guess; these chips you're talking about somehow turn people into vampires. Is that it?"

Seras nodded emphatically, and said, "Exactly. Or, really, they turn people into sort of washed out copies of vampires. They're quite nasty in their own right, mind you, but nothing at all compared to the real thing."

"Really," Brad said in the same odd tone. "And, by the way you say that, I assume you have experience with the 'real' kind?"

Seras looked down suddenly, no longer meeting Brad's gaze, and, in a subdued voice said, "You... could say that."

Brad frowned just slightly, and said, "Something wrong, Seras? You seem kind of uncomfortable all of a sudden. Bad memories?"

She gave a short laugh, and said, "Sort of." Then, looking at him slightly askance, she said, "Haven't you noticed anything... different about me? Or were you just too busy hating my guts to care?"

Still frowning, and examining Seras a bit more closely, Brad said, "I- don't hate you, Seras. Part of me still thinks I should, but- another part of me sees just how bad this tore you up inside. And that in itself tells me that you're no cold-blooded killer. I've known a couple of those in my time, and none of them would've reacted the way you did. So I believe that YOU believe there was no other choice. Now you've just got to sell me on why that was."

Swallowing a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, Seras said, "It's because of what he was. Because he'd already bitten her and taken her blood, like I said before. You see, a vampire like him, a 'fake' one, that is, can't... make other vampires. Not without using another chip, that is. But they can make ghouls."

"Ghouls?" Brad said incredulously. "Like walking, flesh eating corpses? Come on, now, Seras, I've played quite a bit of D&D and seen a lot of horror movies, but GHOULS? You've gotta be shitting me."

Seras sighed again, and said tiredly, "I know. It's awfully hard to believe. I'd never have believed it either if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Seen it HAPPEN before my own eyes, no less."

"And that's what you're saying would have happened to Janin if you hadn't shot her," Brad said.

Seras nodded, and said, "Exactly. She'd have become a mindless undead thing under that bastard's control." Then, looking down, she said in a more subdued tone, "It's not pretty, believe me. Especially not when it happens to someone you know. Someone you care about."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Brad said slowly. "Care to share?"

Seras shook her head slowly, and said, "I don't know. I-"

"I know. You hardly even know me. So who the hell am I to ask about your personal demons? Well, without being too blunt, I'm the guy whose daughter you just shot tonight. I want to believe that you did that for a good reason, but I'm still not convinced. Why don't you convince me."

Seras' gasped at the pain his words caused her, and her fists suddenly clenched at her sides. For a moment, Brad thought she would simply bolt from the room, but eventually, in a tightly controlled voice, she said, "Alright, then. If that's how you want it." And then, in an even flatter tone, she continued. "My introduction to this whole mess happened almost two years ago. I was a cop back then, part of D-11, in fact. And I was pretty proud of that." Looking down, she said in a quiet voice, "My Dad had been a policeman, you see, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Well, I did, and it ended me up in more trouble than I ever could've imagined."

"Go on," Brad said, intrigued now.

Seras sighed, and said, "Anyway, that particular night, we got sent out to a little village called Cheddar. We were supposed to be looking into the disappearances of some townsfolk, and of a regular police unit that'd been sent out before us. We were told that the local priest might be involved." She paused for a moment, evidently collecting herself, and then continued. "What nobody bothered to tell us was the priest in question just happened to be a FREAK vampire. We... found that out the hard way. I was the squad medic, so I didn't go in with the assault element. I stayed back at our rally point with the vehicles, and then..." She stopped again, obviously on the verge of tears, and Brad wasn't sure if she would be able to continue. Eventually, though she did.

In a voice now hoarse with emotion, she said, "Not all of them came back. Only a few, and all of them wounded. At first, I thought it would be alright; most of the wounds were superficial. But then they all started getting sick... fever, nausea, chills, delirium, you name it. I thought it was an infection of some sort, and I- wasn't wrong, exactly. Soon after that, they started to die, despite my best efforts. And that's not the worst, I'm afraid."

"They started coming back," Brad said in a small voice.

Seras nodded, and said, "That's right. They started coming back. My friends... but they weren't my friends anymore. They were mindless, and they were hungry. And as far as they were concerned, I was just meat." After another long pause, she continued with, "I ran for my life, naturally. And, thank God, they were slow. I managed to put some distance between myself and them, but I ended up in even more trouble later. First it was ghoul townspeople, and then... well, lets just say I managed to find the priest. And not under the most ideal circumstances, either."

Brad frowned, and said, "Huh! So how the hell did you get out of that alive? Hellsing just happen to charge in to your rescue?"

Seras gave a short, humorless laugh, and said, "Not exactly. And I didn't. Get out alive, that is."

Brad snorted, and said, "Cute, but I've heard that one before. So, seriously, what happened? Or was all that just a lead up to the punch line?"

Frowning herself now, in a dark tone Seras said, "It's not a joke, Brad. When I say that I didn't make it out that church alive, I mean it. Literally. Haven't you noticed anything odd about me? Anything unusual? Or are you just too torn up inside right now to see?"

Looking closely at Seras once more, Brad said, "No, I noticed a couple of things. Your eyes... I've never seen eyes like yours before. And, now that I look... those are awfully prominent canines you've got there. And you are so pale..." Brad paused, the idea gelling in his head, and then said, "So what are you telling me, Seras? You're a vampire too?"

Seras just looked at him curiously, and then said, "I don't know. What do you think?"

Holding Seras' gaze, Brad said slowly, "Well, first off I think you'd better get your story straight. You just got through telling me that these 'fake' vampires couldn't make more vampires. Just ghouls. And now you're telling me that one made you?"

Seras frowned, and in a tone dripping distaste said, "God, no! I never said that vile creature made me. He was just like all the other FREAKS; worthless, bloodthirsty, and twisted. Ghouls were the best he could do, just like all the others."

Puzzled now, Brad said, "Ok, if not him, then who? Are you saying that he wasn't the only vampire there that night?"

Seras nodded and said, "Exactly. And he was true undead; not a pale copy like the FREAKS."

Even more puzzled now, Brad said, "And this other vampire; he just decided to 'bring you over', or whatever you want to call it?"

"After putting a bullet through my chest to nail the FREAK," she said quietly. "It was a lot like things were with your daughter, I'm afraid. It was the only way. But he... made it up to me afterwards, I suppose you'd say. And I agreed to it."

Brad opened his mouth to say something, but, before he could, he was cut off by a low, deep laugh that seemed somehow to come from all around the two of them.

"Yes, Police Girl, you did at that," said a deep, gruff, and equally sourceless voice. And then, as Brad glanced furtively around the room with a muttered, "What the hell?", a tall, gaunt, grinning figure casually stepped forth from a pool of shadow that suddenly formed along a wall.

"Master," Seras breathed quietly, just a hint of reverence in her tone.

And then, as a very confused Brad looked back and forth from Seras to the dark-haired, red-clad stranger whose eyes were hidden behind an oddly made set of orange-lensed spectacles, the new-comer turned to her and said sardonically, "So, Police Girl. Why don't you introduce me to your new 'friend'. I'm sure we'll have ever so much to talk about."

_Ok, that's it for chapter 3. It came out a lot quicker than I thought it would, but that's what happens when you get a chance to write while you're at work. I don't know if this is as interesting as I said it would be, but I can hope. Things are rambling a bit, but I'm still on course for where I want to go with this. Again, please review, and stay tuned if you liked this!_


	4. Revalations

_**Fresh Blood**_

_**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**_

Disclaimer: _I don't own Hellsing or anything connected with it, though it sure as hell would be fun if I did. I'm writing this purely for my own twisted amusement, and will not make a dime in the process._

For a moment, both Seras and Brad were dead silent, staring dumbly at Alucard, who just continued to look at Seras expectantly. Finally, she found her voice, saying a bit awkwardly, "Uh, oh, of course, Master." Then, glancing and motioning toward Brad, who was still just studying Alucard intently, she said, "Master Alucard, this is Brad Porter. He-"

"Just lost his entire family tonight," Alucard said in a low tone that was more mocking than sympathetic, the slightly maniacal grin that had never left his face reinforcing the impression.

"Master!" Seras said in a mortified tone, paling even more than normal if that were possible. "Please! What he's already been through tonight-!"

"Will either shatter him entirely, or end up making him stronger," Alucard interjected, a certain dark relish in his voice. And then, turning toward Brad, he said, "Which will it be, Army Man? Will you simply cave in on yourself now that your wife and children are gone? Or will you use what happened to them to temper and forge yourself into a weapon strong enough to be used against the kind of creatures who killed them?"

Brad's eyes narrowed as the thinly controlled rage inside him built, and then, in a voice that was little more than a growl, he said, "What the hell do you think I'm going to do? For the last thirteen years, I've been in a profession where 'quit' is a four-letter-word. And even if I hadn't been, I'll be goddamned if I'll soil their memories by letting myself just fall apart. Especially when, if I understand right, there are more of the stinking, fucking things out there that killed them." He paused for a moment, collecting himself, and then continued. "In fact, if Sir Integra up there ends up deciding that I'm not good enough for your high and mighty Hellsing Organization, I'll goddamned well hunt those things myself. That woman and those children were the culmination of everything I've ever wanted out of this life, and now I won't fucking rest until I've hunted down every last one of the damn monsters who took them from me." Then, breathing hard, he added in a low, flat tone, "That answer your question, Master Alucard?"

His grin even wider now, Alucard said in a quiet, satisfied tone, "Perfect." And then, turning to Seras, he said, "You see, Police Girl? THAT is what not giving up is all about. But then you already know that, don't you?"

Perplexed, Seras opened her mouth to say something, but was immediately interrupted as Alucard continued. "No need to answer, Police Girl. I already know. But you should keep your eye on this one. I think Sir Integra will be keeping him, and I'm pretty sure he'll make an... interesting addition." Then, chuckling once more, Alucard began to slowly fade from view, becoming dimmer and dimmer until finally he just wasn't there anymore. But before he was entirely gone, he said in a hollow, echoing voice, "Oh, and by the way, Police Girl; nice shooting tonight. Seems you've finally learned that in order to hit a target, sometimes you have to fire through an obstacle. Even if that means a little collateral damage..." And then there was only the sound of his renewed laughter, which faded soon after he did.

An awkward silence followed Alucard's departure. Seras just stared at where he'd been, eyes wide, and tears starting to form as the full import and all the implications of his parting shot sunk into her. For his part, Brad stood, fists clenched at his sides, not willing to give Alucard the satisfaction that he was sure flying off the handle would give him. Instead, he just concentrated on his breathing and racing heartbeat, trying to find his center in the Zen way and wishing that he'd done more than dabble in Buddhism.

Finally, in a hoarse whisper around her tears, Seras finally managed to say, "I'm sorry. For what he said, and... for what I did. He- I-" And then she could go no further, her voice breaking as emotion overcame her.

But Brad just shook his head, and, walking slowly, came over to put a hand on Seras' shoulder. As she looked up at him miserably, he said quietly and with some effort, "Don't. Don't do this to yourself, Seras. There's no reason for it."

Her expression turned to one of incredulity, and she said in a husky voice, "How can you say that to me? How can you-"

"Give a pep talk to the person who... killed my daughter?" He said, stumbling slightly over the last part.

Staring at him wide-eyed, Seras just nodded wordlessly.

With a shuddering sigh, tears only just held in check himself, Brad said, "It's... not easy. But... it's like I said before. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. That you were literally sparing Janin a fate worse than death. And, now that I've seen Alucard, the guy who made you, I assume, and what he can do... it doesn't really make sense to doubt the rest of your story. And with what I've seen of you tonight... well, here's the picture it paints for me. You had to make a decision out there that nobody ever wants to make. And then you were able to look Janin in the eye and carry out that decision, no matter how much it hurt to do it." He paused, swallowing audibly, and then continued, "In thirteen years as a military policeman, I've been lucky enough to have never had to fire a round at a live target. But I've been in a few situations where I thought I might have to, and I know how that made me feel. I can only imagine how it must be for you right now, and, as much as I hurt inside, it would just be flat wrong for me to take that out on you."

Seras continued to look at him disbelievingly, feeling the same knife from earlier twisting in her guts at his words. It just wasn't right, she thought, for her to be taking comfort from a person whose life she'd just helped destroy. The fact that he seemed sincere in what he was saying, that he really didn't blame her for his daughter's death, only made it hurt more. And, she thought blackly, this was probably exactly the sort of situation her Master had hoped to catalyze with his appearance and the few choice words he'd said.

Finally, Seras found her voice, and said, "I- don't know what to say, really. I'm... not sure I deserve your forgiveness. After all, when you get right down to it... I'm a monster too."

Brad shook his head slowly, and, voice still raw, said, "I don't believe that, Seras. A monster wouldn't have told Janin she was sorry before she did what she had to. A monster wouldn't have cried afterwards. And a monster wouldn't be standing here now feeling miserable about the whole damn thing. Would she?"

"But-!" Seras began, only to be interrupted by Brad as he said, "You may not be human anymore, Seras. After seeing Alucard, I don't doubt that. But you're obviously not like the... thing that killed Anja and the kids. I can see that much."

Seras just shook her head, and said, "I just don't understand. How you can be talking to me like this now! My God, it's only been a few hours since..."

Brad nodded slowly, and said, "That's exactly it right there. I guess... it hasn't all really hit me yet. I'm still in denial, or something. Intellectually, I know that... they're gone. And it hurts! But it all just doesn't seem quite real somehow. I feel... disconnected. Like my brain was floating six inches over my head, or something." Then, in a bare whisper, he said, "God. I don't even want to think about how this will feel once it makes it from my head to my gut."

Seras looked down, biting her lip at Brad's words, and then said, "I- I should go. You don't need me here, reminding you of... everything."

But as she quickly stood and headed for the door, Brad turned and said, "Wait a minute, Seras. Please."

She stopped, and, turning her head, looked at him questioningly.

"There's no way I'm going to get any sleep any time soon," he said quietly. "And I- don't really want to be alone right now. All that'll do is give me too damn much time to think about things." Then, after a moment's awkward pause, he said, "Would you mind staying for a little while? Just to... talk?"

Seras looked down again briefly, considering, and then, looking up said a bit uncertainly, "I... suppose so." And then frowning slightly, she said, "But what do you want to talk about?"

Brad shook his head slowly, and said, "Anything except tonight. Anything to keep my mind from chasing it's tail around in circles the way it was before you came in here." And then, cocking his head slightly, he said, "In fact, why don't you tell me a little bit about Hellsing? Other than the fact that you guys are apparently some kind of paramilitary organization that hunts down vampires, I know jack and shit. It'd be kind of nice to know a little more before I sign on the line. Assuming I get Sir Integra's stamp of approval, that is."

Seras smiled just slightly at his flippant tone, and said, "I can do that. What do you want to know?"

Brad snorted, and said, "Huh! If I knew that, I wouldn't have to ask. Why don't you just tell me about your time here, and what you've found out. That's probably the best way to do this."

Seras nodded slowly and, smiling still, said, "Alright, then. Like I said before, it all started that night in Cheddar..."

_Well, this is a little short, I guess, but this seemed like a natural break point. And, lest you worry, NO! This isn't the beginning of some silly romance between Brad and Seras. I absolutely DO NOT plan on taking things in that direction. On the other hand, I do see a bond forming between them, just not THAT kind of bond. Anyhow, PLEASE review, and, like I said before, stay tuned; there'll be more. I still have a lot of disturbing ideas chasing themselves around my brain..._


	5. Transitions

_**Fresh Blood**_

_**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**_

Disclaimer: _I don't own Hellsing or anything connected with it, though it sure as hell would be fun if I did. I'm writing this purely for my own twisted amusement, and will not make a dime in the process._

Brad wasn't really sure what woke him, nor did he clearly remember going to sleep. In fact, for several long seconds after he opened his eyes, he wasn't even sure where he was. But then memories began to trickle back into his foggy mind, memories of the previous day's horrors. With a gasp, he rolled over, his left arm flopping over to where Anja should have been. Nothing. He was alone in the unfamiliar room lent him there in Hellsing House.

"Christ," he whispered, staring up at the ceiling vacantly, "It wasn't a damn nightmare."

He continued to stare off into space for a long time, strange, black thoughts and half-thoughts chasing themselves through his mind like howling demons. But, finally, he'd had enough, and with a growl forced himself up. 'No point laying around like a lump of shit', he thought.

After cruising through perfunctory toiletries on autopilot and throwing on an Army physical training uniform, just shorts and t-shirt considering the mild weather, he left the room quietly. He figured that, with nothing better to do, he might as well find someplace to work out. One way or another, he was sure that he was going to need to be in top physical condition from here on out.

As luck would have it, the first person he ran into was Walter, who, taking in Brad's attire, said, "Good morning, Sergeant Porter. Up for a bit of exercise, I see?"

Brad nodded, and said, "Seems like a good idea."

Walter nodded as well, and, pointing, said, "Well, if that's the case, you'll find the gymnasium down that hallway, toward the troop billets, and down the second stairway you come to. It's directly adjacent to the indoor range, in fact."

"Huh!" Brad said. "You've got a firing range and a gym in here? You guys are pretty self-sufficient, aren't you?"

Walter just smiled slightly, and said, "All things considered, we rather have to be."

"Makes sense, I guess," Brad said slowly, and then, "Well, thanks for the directions anyway. And- I don't suppose you have any idea when there might be any news from Sir Integra?"

With a thoughtful expression, Walter said, "No, unfortunately I don't. But as soon as I hear anything, I'll be sure to let you know."

Brad nodded slowly, and then said, "Alright." Then, frowning slightly, he said, "Oh, by the way; I don't suppose you'd happen to know where Sergeant Victoria is this morning? We had... kind of a long talk last night. She brought me up to speed on a lot of things, and I was sort of hoping... well, hell. I guess I was just hoping to talk to her some more today. She's really the only person I know around here."

Walter cocked his head just slightly, and said, "Miss Victoria is most likely asleep right now, it being daytime and all. She did explain her... condition last night, did she not?"

"Condition," Brad said in an amused tone. "Well, I guess that's one way to describe it. And, yeah, that makes sense; guess a little day light might be hazardous to her health."

"Oh," Walter said, "Don't put too much stock in whatever lore you might've picked up from the mass media. While some of it is relatively accurate, a great deal of it isn't."

Brad frowned slightly, and said, "Really. So you're saying that sun light WON'T hurt her?"

Walter nodded, and said, "Not appreciably, though, like most vampires, her eyes are rather sensitive. When she has to go out in the light, she prefers to wear sunglasses. Dark ones at that."

Slightly puzzled, Brad said, "Well, if that's the case, then why sleep the day away? Are vampires predisposed toward being nocturnal, or is it just a matter of preference?"

"A bit of both, actually," Walter said. "Vampires are rather vulnerable during the day, you see. For whatever reason, most of their more extraordinary abilities are dormant during daylight hours, whether or not they're actually out in the light. That, and they tend to become rather sluggish and a bit fuzzy-headed as well. Overall, it's much safer for them to spend the day slumbering in a nice safe, dark place. Or so I've been told."

Brad nodded slowly, and said, "Well, that all makes sense, I guess. In it's own little paradigm, anyway. And I guess that means I probably won't be running into Seras until sometime this evening. Assuming that I'm even here that long, of course."

"A fair assumption," Walter said mildly.

"Well then," Brad said, turning in the direction Walter had indicated, "Off to the gym, I suppose."

The rest of the day dragged by interminably for Brad. He just had no real idea what to do with himself while he waited for Sir Integra's decision. He spent a manic three hours in the gym, which included a full-body muscle failure weight work out, an hour divided between a stair climber and a treadmill, and most of another hour bloodying his knuckles and knees on a heavy bag.

After that, he took a few minutes to shower and change back at his room, and then found the firing range, which, luckily, was in use. With a little persuasion, he was able to convince the senior trooper present to let him join in and then spent another two hours cycling through various weapons systems, pretending the man-sized silhouette down range was the pale man from the night before. As usual, his marksmanship was more than fair, and tended to be better with handguns than with long arms. But, as far as he was concerned, there was a lot of room for improvement, and, one way or another, he planned on spending a lot more time on the range in the near future.

Once he'd had his fill of shooting, Brad found himself just wandering the mansion aimlessly. At some point, he'd realized that his stomach was trying to eat him from the inside out, and, even though food was the farthest thing from his thoughts, he figured that starving himself wasn't going to help him in the long run. After a bit more wandering, he found the kitchen without too much trouble, and, rather than bother anyone, slapped together a quick sandwich from the refrigerator. Then, rather than sit and eat, he simply took his snack with him, and continued to explore.

Eventually, Brad's random meanderings brought him to the library, and, for lack of anything better to do, he began to peruse the shelves. He found a number of titles that seemed interesting, mostly dealing with vampires and the occult in general, and he took these with him to a nearby desk for further consideration. As he read, he realized that these most likely weren't particularly important or definitive volumes; those were bound to be under lock and key somewhere else. Still, he figured that there was no real reason for Sir Integra to keep anything actually misleading in her 'public' library. After all, who but her own people and a few invited guests would ever see any of these books? And, in the end, it didn't really matter to him. Reading was something to do, whether the material was sound or not.

As was typical for Brad, once he became absorbed in reading, he basically lost track of time. He hardly noticed as the light coming through the library's windows slowly turned from bright yellow to burnt orange, and then slowly faded toward darkness. In fact, he was so engrossed in one of the volumes he'd found, a treatise on spirits, hauntings, and the underlying mystical principals, that he didn't even notice the arrival of another person in the room.

Finally, a polite, "Ahem," got his attention, causing his head to snap around quickly in the speaker's direction. Recognizing the new arrival, he relaxed, and said, "Seras. You're up." And then, glancing toward the darkening window, he said, "Wow. I guess I didn't realize how late it was getting."

Seras smiled just slightly, and, coming slowly over to where Brad sat, said, "I guess not. Found something interesting, did you?"

Brad cocked his head slightly, and with a bland expression said, "Mmm, not too bad. Not what I usually read, but Sir Integra's library seems to lean pretty heavily toward stuff like this."

Looking over his shoulder at the book in question, Seras nodded slowly, and said, "True enough. Which is why I don't spend a lot of time up here, I guess."

Closing the book abruptly, Brad stood and, strolling toward the window, said, "So. Did you come looking for me just because, or is there some news?"

Looking a bit sheepish, Seras said, "Well, kind of both, actually. Sir Integra did ask me to find you; she wanted to talk to you again. From the way she put it, I'm not sure she's quite made up her mind, though. I think she wants more to clarify some things, really."

Puzzled, Brad said, "Clarify some things? Like what?"

Seras just shook her head, and said, "I'm not sure. She only said that she had some things to ask you, that's all."

"Huh," Brad said, and then, "Well, what the hell. I guess if she's got questions, I'll try to give her answers. Whatever-the-hell she's looking for."

Seras was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider something, and then said, "Um, before we go to see her, there was something I wanted to talk to you about..."

Frowning slightly at her tone, Brad said, "Ok, I guess. Shoot."

"Well," Seras said slowly, "It's just- I hope I didn't put you off last night. I, uh, think I may've said a little too much once we got to really talking. You just asked me to tell you a little bit about Hellsing, and I, uh, kind of unloaded so to speak. I kind of doubt you wanted to hear all of the personal drivel I ended up throwing in. How I felt my first few weeks here, how... lonely and scared I was at times. All of that. It's not like you don't have enough problems of your own right now without being bothered by mine."

Brad sighed, and said, "Actually, I didn't mind that at all, Seras. I'd rather get a more... human appraisal of this place than some kind of a clinical overview. That, and, honestly, hearing your problems kind of helped take my mind off of mine. If that makes any sense."

She nodded slowly, and said, "I suppose it does." Then, after a somewhat awkward pause, she said, "So. Shall we? Sir Integra's waiting, after all."

"Sure," Brad said just a bit sardonically. "Why not?"

Standing once more in front of Sir Integra, Brad found himself far less nervous than he thought he should be. After all, thanks to what Seras had told him the night before, he now had a much better idea of just who this woman was and what she represented. And, given that, he knew that she could have an extremely profound effect on whatever was left of his life. But, he realized, it all boiled down to the same thing he'd known the last time he stood here. In the final analysis, he just couldn't bring himself to really give a damn about what happened from here on out. If she decided to have him shot and dumped in the Thames, well then, so be it. If not, then that was fine too. Either way, he just wanted to have it over with.

Finally, closing the rather bulky manila folder she'd been staring at since he'd entered the room, Sir Integra looked up at Brad and said, "Well, Sergeant Porter, as you can guess, the report I requested on you has been completed, and I've reviewed it fairly thoroughly."

Brad nodded just slightly, and said, "And?"

"And," she said slowly, "I have a few questions."

Frowning slightly, Brad said, "Ok, ma'am. Shoot. I've got nothing to hide."

Steepling her fingers in front of her, Integra said, "Hm. Well, first off, I must say that, for the most part, your record seems rather squeaky clean. All the way back into grade school, in fact. No arrests. No drug or alcohol related incidents. Not even any real fights. You don't find many records that clean, Sergeant Porter. Especially not these days."

"Implying what?" Brad said neutrally. "That you don't believe what's in there?"

Sir Integra frowned just slightly, and said, "Why? Shouldn't I?"

"Well," Brad said thoughtfully, "I guess what you've got there is a pretty good overview of things. I really haven't ever been in any really big trouble. And I seriously doubt any of the little things would've shown up in a day's worth of digging. But, just to clear the waters... Let's see. I was a little bastard all through grade school, and, if I hadn't been a little braniac too, I probably would've gotten in a lot more trouble than I did. But it was a small school, and all of the teachers knew all of the parents, so a lot of things got handled at the lowest levels, I guess you'd say." He paused for a moment, remembering, and then continued. "Junior high and high school were a little better and a little worse. I did most of the stupid things that all teenagers do, including a few run-ins with alcohol. But nothing that ever scored me a police record, or that ever put anybody except maybe me in any danger. And as for drugs, well... the truth is, I never had any inclination to try that garbage. I... watched my mother and her friends burn themselves out on that stuff back in the '70's and early '80's, and that was enough for me. Made me damn glad it was her parents, my grandparents, who raised me. God only knows what would've happened otherwise."

After another long pause, he said, "As for the military, well... I've had two summarized Article 15's. Non-judicial punishment, that is. The summarized version doesn't go into a soldier's permanent record, in case you're wondering; it's basically a hard slap on the wrist. The first one was for a dumb procedural error another private and I made way back in about 1990, and the second one... well, I deserved that one." Smiling sheepishly, he looked down briefly, then looked back up and continued. "I got a little drunk one night while we were deployed down to Panama, which in and of itself wasn't a big deal; it wasn't a 'dry' deployment and I was off duty that night. The problem was, somehow I ended up in a tug-of-war with one of my roommates over a damn mop, and when he jerked it out of my hands, I managed to fall down, knock myself out, and gash my head open. Naturally, the, uh, stuff hit the fan after that. And it didn't really help matters that once I woke up I was so freaked out that the CQ had to handcuff me to the gurney before the EMT's could haul me off to the hospital." He heard and ignored a muffled snicker from Seras behind him, and said, "And, really, that's about it. After that little fiasco, I got some counseling, and alcohol hasn't been a problem since. Of course, like everybody else, I screw up from time to time. But, from what you said last night, I'm sure you've read my evaluation reports. I've always done my job and made sure that the people who worked for me were taken care of, no matter what. Now, was there anything else you needed clarified, ma'am?"

Sir Integra stared at him intensely for a moment, and then said, "Just one thing, Sergeant Porter." She paused for a moment, mostly for effect, he thought, and then said, "I gather that Sergeant Victoria told you a bit about our organization last night, yes?"

Brad cocked his head just slightly, and said, "That's right."

Sir Integra nodded slowly, and said, "Then I assume she mentioned the... theological underpinnings of Hellsing as well."

Frowning again, Brad said carefully, "She mentioned that you were a Christian organization. That part of your mission was the defense of the Anglican Church as well as the Crown."

"Exactly, Sergeant Porter," she said slowly, and then, quietly, "And what, may I ask, are your religious feelings?"

Brad sighed loudly, and said, "Ah. I get it now." And then, tiredly, "Well, I was raised Southern Baptist, I suppose, although we really didn't go to church very much. I just kind of cruised along with that until I was a teenager, I guess, but then... I started asking a lot of questions. I'd always had a scientific mind, really, and, eventually, I just couldn't reconcile Christianity with science anymore. For quite a few years after that, I called myself an atheist." He paused then, sifting through his thoughts, and said, "That lasted into my early twenties. By then, I'd had a chance to do a lot of thinking, and had a few more life experiences, and, finally, I came to the conclusion that, while Christianity didn't have all the answers, neither did science. After that, I got interested in Eastern religions, and eventually settled on the Zen version of Buddhism. Granted, I've never had the time or resources to get as deeply into it as I've wanted to, but... Anyway, in the last few years, especially after Anja and I got together, I've started to incorporate a lot more things into my religious framework. Both of us were interested in Wicca, and a good friend of mine was a Wiccan priest. I don't buy everything that Wicca has to say, but some of it's ideas seemed to fit pretty well." Then, drawing a deep breath, Brad finished with, "So, overall, I guess you'd have to say that I've been slowly inventing my own religion. Nothing I want to push off on anybody else, of course, but my own way of... interpreting things that are bigger than science or organized religion can explain. My own way of connecting with it all, I suppose." And then, quietly, "So this is a problem, I guess?"

Sir Integra sighed, and said, "It's a- complication, shall we say. While you wouldn't be the first foreigner or even the first unbeliever recruited by Hellsing, we truly are Protestant Knights of the Church. If we were to let you in, so to speak, there are certain forms that must be followed, regardless of personal beliefs, and... how to put it. Well, simply speaking, Sergeant Porter, faith is an almost indispensable asset those who hunt what we hunt. Can you understand that?"

Still frowning, Brad said, "I see where you're going, ma'am. And, to be honest, I certainly can't say that my faith in any Judeo-Christian God is likely to be particularly strong any time in the near future. It scares me to think that a deity like that, if He does exist, just sits back and allows things like the bastard who killed my family to run loose. That He would allow something like that to happen to people as sweet and innocent as Anja and those children. There's no way I could ever understand a thing like that, I'm afraid." Pausing for a moment, he continued in a dark tone. "But there is one thing I have faith in right now, ma'am. I have the utmost faith in my resolve and my willingness to do anything it takes to send every last one of those FREAK bastards to whatever passes for a hell. And nothing short of death will stop me from going after them, regardless of whether you want me in your organization or not. Ma'am."

Sir Integra was silent for a very long time, still staring at Brad, staring through him, almost. Then, finally, she said, "Well, Sergeant Porter, you do make a rather convincing argument for yourself, at least." And then, the same bare hint of a smile gracing her lips as the night before, she said, "But I'm afraid if you're going to be a part of Hellsing, you're going to have to toughen up just a bit first. I took the liberty of making a few arrangements, contingent upon the outcome of this meeting, of course. One month from now, which should provide ample time for you to put your family to rest and tie up any necessary loose ends, you will report back here, ready to train. And that training will consist of the full SAS qualification course, for starts, for which you'll be spending a few lovely weeks with Her Majesty's Royal Army. After that, I think we can pick up in-house, and I believe I'll turn you over to the tender mercies of Sergeant Victoria for a little refresher course on S.W.A.T. and urban warfare tactics." Then, just a hint of sarcasm in her voice, she added, "Does that meet with your approval, Sergeant Porter?"

Mouth set in a hard, satisfied line, Brad just nodded slowly, and, in a low tone said, "Yes ma'am, I think it does."

_Ok, that's it for chapter 5, and I apologize for the long-winded parts there. Also, I know that there's not a hell of a lot of action at the moment, but trust me, that's going to change before very much longer! Just hang on with me for now! As always, thanks for reading, and please, please review! (I'm a hell of a lot more likely to write if I know people are reading, and your feedback helps me straighten out whatever I'm messing up!)_


	6. The Crucible

_**Fresh Blood**_

_**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**_

Disclaimer: _I don't own Hellsing or anything connected with it, though it sure as hell would be fun if I did. I'm writing this purely for my own twisted amusement, and will not make a dime in the process._

The next four and a half months proved to be among the hardest in Brad's life. The real hell of it, though, was that he wasn't really sure which part was the worst.

Granted, SAS selection and training was by no stretch of the imagination a picnic. He'd never forget the first words he heard from the cadre on that first day: "**Its nice of you all to come along, I don't suppose most of you will be with us for more than a few days."**

That had set the tone for the whole two weeks of BFT, or battle fitness course. From what he'd learned a few years earlier, when he'd been single and hard charging and had taken the first steps toward joining the U.S. Army's Special Forces, BFT closely paralleled SFAS, the 'weeding out' process used for selecting those who'd advance to the Q-Course and eventually earn their green berets. Both courses concentrated heavily on intense physical exercise with very little rest or sleep, and involved running and rucking for unbelievable distances over rough and inhospitable terrain. For the American SF, that was on and around Ft. Bragg, North Carolina; for the SAS, it was Brecon Beacons, Wales.

Curiously, though, while the entire experience was grueling in the extreme and Brad remained consumed by a cold rage that only fired his determination, some part of him actually registered the beauty of the country around him. Even though his every waking moment was filled with thoughts of his murdered family, the only thing that gave him the mental fortitude to overcome his thirty-something body's short falls, he couldn't help but notice that Brecon Beacons was a magnificent place. In some odd corner of his mind, even, he thought he might like to come back some day, not as a soldier but as a tourist. But the next thought that inevitable entered his head was always that he'd really like to show all of this to Anja and the kids, and that thought sparked results that were entirely predictable. He'd clench his jaw, anger overriding any pain or protest his body might be giving at the moment, and press on with whatever was required of him twice as hard as before. Not surprisingly, given his circumstances and what motivated him, Brad made it through BFT.

Of course, that only meant that it was on to the jungle phase, six weeks of hell in Brunei. But, once again, Brad persevered, knowing that everything he was going through was making him stronger. Strong enough, he hoped, to be able to take on the kind of horrors that Hellsing took on. Strong enough to send every last one of the vile things that'd taken his family from him straight to hell.

After all of that, another month of combat survival, with it's accompanying SEER, or survival, escape, evasion and resistance training, seemed almost anti-climactic. It was by no means easy, living off the land for a month with nothing more than a greatcoat provided before hand, but it was doable. In fact, it proved to be almost a balm for Brad's tortured mind; most of his waking hours were so filled with the minutia of survival that he had little time to think of the things he desperately didn't want to think about, and when he did sleep, he was so exhausted that, if he did dream, he never remembered afterward. And, in the final week, when he, like everyone else, was captured and interrogated, he simply used his eventual goals as a sort of mantra to get him through. It was worth enduring anything, he told himself, anything at all, to get through all of this so that he would be able, through Hellsing, to strike out at those whom he so desperately wanted to.

Once it was all over, it was with a certain amount of ambivalence that he accepted the SAS flash and beret, items that he knew he'd never wear. Though technically still a member of the U.S. Army, on an indefinite liaison assignment with the British Army and soon to be further detached to serve with Hellsing thanks to whatever tangled strings Sir Integra had pulled, he'd most likely never wear a uniform that the beret was part of. Strangely, this didn't really bother him much. After all, everything he'd just been through was no more than a means to an end so far as he was concerned.

But the oddest part, Brad reflected as he made his way back to Hellsing House by train and taxi, was that it had all been far less painful than the month of leave he'd taken before hand. A month of sheer hell in which he'd buried and laid to rest not only his family but his entire life up to that point. A month of tears and gaudy emotional displays by family members in both Germany and back in Oregon that'd left him discomfited and disgusted by turns. A month of paring through a lifetime's worth of possessions, his, hers and theirs, agonizing over what to keep and where to keep it. And, perhaps most frustratingly, a month of wading through legalities, bureaucratic red tape, and military protocols.

Not only that, but somewhere in the middle of it all, the moment he'd told Seras he feared the most finally came. One night out of the blue, it had all finally really hit him at the gut level. He didn't remember much of that night; he only knew that alcohol had played a part in things, and that both his father and brother had lent a helping hand. Regardless, he knew that the pain had finally overwhelmed him then, and had very nearly shut him down. Still, somehow he did recover, mostly, he thought, for the same reasons he'd given Alucard that night at Hellsing. In the end, he just couldn't bear the thought of failing Anja and the kids by simply folding in on himself like a house of cards. And after all of that, it was little wonder that SAS training struck him as less traumatic overall.

As he stood before the gates of the Hellsing estate, a duffle bag over one shoulder and a camouflage helmet bag in his left hand, waiting for the soldier on guard to confirm his identity, another strange thought crossed Brad's mind. He hadn't really realized it until just that moment, but in some way, he'd missed this place. He found that patently absurd, of course. How could you miss a place that you'd only spent two nights in? And two hellish nights, at that. Then, frowning, he realized that they hadn't been entirely hellish, thanks to someone, and that just maybe it wasn't Hellsing House that he'd missed.

Vaguely disturbed by the direction his thoughts were taking, he turned his focus inward as he was passed by the guard and walked slowly toward the main house. Examining his motivations closely, he was dismayed to realize that it was Seras that he was looking forward to seeing again. His frown deepened as he sifted more thoroughly through himself, earnestly hoping that his emotions weren't betraying him in the manner that he thought they might be. But then his brow smoothed as something important slowly became clear to him; there was nothing romantic about his feelings for Seras. The only person who held that place in his heart, still, was Anja. She'd been his one true love, and most likely there would never be another. His heart was just too scarred to let anyone else in, probably forever. No, Seras held some different position in his emotional universe, but she most definitely had a place there.

'Well, fuck it,' he thought, somewhat disgusted with himself, as the door opened in front of him, Walter smiling placidly as he gave Brad a reserved but warm welcome back. 'Just because I've apparently developed some kind of attachment to her doesn't mean the reverse is true. What the hell do two nights of conversation, plus, incidentally, the mercy killing of one party's daughter by the other add up to? Hell, I'll be surprised if she even remembers who I am. And, for that matter, who am I now anyway? Just another Hellsing grunt, that's who.'

For his part, if Walter noticed Brad's somewhat pensive mood, in the manner of all truly great English butlers, he gave no indication. Instead, he simply made polite small talk as he led Brad first to the single soldier's barracks, down in the basement, and, after he'd dropped his gear, to Sir Integra's study. Not, Brad was sure, that that was a usual destination for fresh Hellsing recruits. But then, his circumstances were just a bit unique.

Standing once more at the rigid position of attention three paces in front of Sir Integra's desk, this time Brad did salute, smartly and in the American fashion, palm down. "Ma'am, Senior Officer Porter reports for duty as ordered!" He intoned crisply.

"You may stand at ease, Officer Porter," Sir Integra said, at which he dropped the salute and shifted to a position of parade rest, feet shoulder width apart and hands clasped behind his back.

Sir Integra studied him for a moment, and then said, "Well, I see that a few months roughing it has done you some good. You look much fitter than you did the last time you stood there. And a lot more capable as well."

Brad nodded just slightly, and said, "Yes, ma'am. One of the toughest spec-ops schools in the world has a way of doing that to you."

She smiled just slightly, and said, "Imagine that." And, after a moment's pause, "So, Officer Porter; are all of your affairs in order? Have you dealt sufficiently with all of your... personal issues to be of use to Hellsing now?"

Considering for a moment, Brad said, "I think I have, ma'am. And... well, somewhere along the way, I guess you could say that I've cooled off just a little. Oh, don't get me wrong. I still see red every time I think about what happened, and I still want to nail every last one of those bastards. But... more than that, I- just want to be part of something that helps to spare others what I've gone through." Pausing in thought, finally he finished with, "That, and- well, the motto of the Military Police Corps is 'Assist, Protect, Defend', ma'am. I've tried my best to live that for the last thirteen years and- I guess that's just something I'd like to bring with me to Hellsing. If that makes any sense, ma'am."

Her brow rising minutely in approval, Sir Integra said, "It makes perfect sense, Officer Porter. And, quite frankly, I'm rather relieved to hear that from you. I must admit that, the last time I saw you, I wasn't entirely sure things were going to work out. I already have one ravening killing machine working for me, you see, and he's quite enough to deal with. Not to mention the fact that he's nearly invulnerable, and can afford to be rather- careless in a fight. You, on the other hand, are entirely too human, and would be of little use to me or yourself dead. Which is exactly how you'd end up if all you were capable of was charging into a situation in a blind rage. Do you understand, Officer Porter?"

Brad nodded and said, "Perfectly, ma'am. And don't worry about that; I don't intend to get dead any time soon. Kind of hard to put down FREAKS when you're busy pushing up daisies, isn't it?"

Sir Integra smiled slightly once more, and said, "Quite. And now, Officer Porter, there's one last bit of business to be attended to. The continuation of your training."

Brad cocked his head just slightly, and said, "That would be Hellsing-specific training, I assume ma'am?"

Sir Integra nodded, and said, "Precisely. There's still a great deal for you to learn before you frame your first real FREAK in your sights, I'm afraid. History, lore, and tactics, for starts. Battling the undead requires more than just a steady hand and eye, Officer Porter. A number of former Hellsing soldiers would tell you that if they were still able."

Brad nodded slowly and said, "I understand, ma'am."

"Good," she said, "Then I believe that's all for now. Take the rest of the evening to settle in, and then report to Commander Williams in the morning. From now on, you'll use the chain of command just like any other soldier of Hellsing, which means that our meetings should be rather rare. Oh, and be sure to remind Commander Williams that Sergeant Victoria is to take charge of your training. I did task her with that before you left."

"Yes ma'am," Brad said evenly, and then, "And, by the way, Sergeant Victoria wouldn't happen to be in tonight, would she? I thought I might as well touch bases with her if she was."

Sir Integra frowned just slightly, and said, "Actually, she's out with one of the squads at the moment. They're dealing with a minor... situation downtown. But, unless things escalate, I'd expect her back in soon."

"Yes ma'am," Brad said. "Is there anything else, ma'am?"

"No, Officer Porter," Sir Integra replied, "You're dismissed."

With another, "Yes ma'am," Brad snapped back to attention, saluted smartly, and, performing an about face, marched from the room, passing Walter on his way out.

Once he'd exited, Sir Integra looked to Walter and said, "Well, what do you think, Walter? What are your impressions?"

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "He may just work out, Sir Integra. He has potential, I believe. And heart, which is just as important if not more so."

Sir Integra nodded slowly, and said, "My impressions exactly, Walter. And now the rest is up to Williams and Victoria."

"And," Walter said sagely, "To Officer Porter, I'd say."

Sir Integra nodded again, and then turned her attention back to the mountain of files littering her desk, while Walter quietly took his leave. Neither of them, however, took notice of a pair of red-orange eyes that inhabited a dark corner of the ceiling, and had done so since the meeting with Brad had begun. Apparently, someone else had taken an interest in Brad's future with Hellsing as well.

_Ok, end of chapter six, and I know! Where the hell is the action I've been promising?! Well, give me time; I'm getting there! I'm just telling this story as it comes to me, kind of letting it grow, so to speak, but I'm fairly certain we'll get to some kind of gratuitously violent blood-letting by the next chapter, or, if not, by the one after that. I've already got a couple of ideas, and, eventually, beyond the whole FREAK thing, there's also Iscariot..._


End file.
